


Fruit of Yggdrasil

by daphnerunning, Galiko



Series: Oddballs in Love [5]
Category: Ensemble Stars! (Video Game)
Genre: Anxiety, Established Relationship, M/M, Mental Health Issues, family member OC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-14
Updated: 2016-06-14
Packaged: 2018-07-14 23:27:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7195565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daphnerunning/pseuds/daphnerunning, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Galiko/pseuds/Galiko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The worst thing Kagehira Mika could imagine is the audio being cut at Valkyrie's next Live. Unfortunately, the reality is far worse--the Live is a success, and his mother attends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fruit of Yggdrasil

**Author's Note:**

> Follows our other MikaShu fics but all you need to know is that they're an established couple. Takes place towards the end of Shu's third year.

Exhilarated, exhausted, disappointed, _thrilled_ —so many of those emotions all at once make Kagehira Mika’s head spin, and it’s no surprise that he ends up on the floor backstage, a bag of ice pressed against his forehead. 

 

Everything feels sweltering when he’s in layers of heavy lace and velvet, and sweat trickles in steady streams down his neck underneath the lace netting of clipped-in extensions. Every single part of him feels _heavy_ , too, and his feet ache and throb, feeling pathetically unused to high heels even after practicing in them for weeks to prepare for this particular Live against UNDEAD. 

 

_And it didn’t even matter, more or less._ Exhilarating, that they got so far—exhausted, because four rounds in, he’d had to give in, collapsing on stage—disappointed, because _he’d let Shu down_ —thrilled, because Shu had been so perfect, so magnificent, to the point that Mika watched Rei nearly concede, just moments from it when Shu had collapsed on stage, his body, not his resolve, wavering. 

 

_This is my fault. If I had just lasted one more round, just one more…_

 

Shu’s head lolls in his lap where Mika sits, sticky with sweat and sagging in exhaustion, and he wearily stares up at the rafters, heaving a sigh as he adjusts the ice pack on his own head, and then Shu’s. _He’ll never want me to drop out and stay with him now._

 

“Why the long face, sweetheart?” 

 

Arashi drops down to a crouch, face full of gentle concern and no small amount of pride. “You guys were seriously fantastic--I gotta be honest, no one thought either of you had that much juice left in you, Mika-chan. Why aren’t you happy?”

 

It’s not _fair_  that Arashi is here now, because just that sliver of concern and worry over _him_  makes Mika’s lower lip tremble, and immediately, the waterworks start. “‘Cuz I messed up,” he tearfully says, sniffling and immediately lifting his sleeve to shove it against his eyes, but it’s too late—his mascara is running, dripping streaks of black down his cheeks. “I-if I had jus’ lasted one more round, I could’ve… _we_  could’ve won, I bet, b-but I couldn’t! Oshi-san already works so hard, he s-should be able t’count on me but no matter h-how much I practice I’m not _good enough…_ ”

 

“Ohhh, boy.” Arashi rocks down, sitting on the floor with a grimace on his face at the coldness of the floor. Sure does look like Itsuki is passed out cold--is it safe to leave him like that? Well, Mika probably knows best. “Mika-chan, everyone thinks you did a great job. And in those heels? Girl, everyone gets out in these, that’s the point.”

 

“I don’t wanna be like everyone else!” Mika forgets himself, and nearly blows his nose into the sleeve of his dress before he catches himself with a ragged, huffy sob. “If…if I’m like everyone else, there’s no _way_  Oshi-san will ever wanna go pro with me, he’ll tell me t’just forget it.” He sniffs hard, lifting his head to stare red-eyed and make-up streaked at Arashi. “T-this is all I’m good at, y’know, and I’m not even _that_  good, so if I can’t do this…” 

 

“Didn’t you guys go up against twice as many people and make it to basically a draw?” Arashi presses, one eyebrow raised. “Besides, everyone focused on you at the beginning. No one thinks you’re not any good--you looked _incredible_ out there. And that dance you did, with the chair? You guys looked so sexy! How long have you been wearing dresses and heels, hmm?”

 

“F…for the past month, I guess…” His feet throb rather condescendingly, and Mika chews on his lower lip in an attempt to stop crying, even as he surrenders his ice pack to plop a second one on top of Shu, his fingers shaking as he frets. “I didn’t mean to let him get to this point,” he miserably says. “Naru-chan, I jus’ wanted to be able to pick up the slack for him, but he’s like this now and it’s my fault.” 

 

“C’mere. Come on, you need to walk around for a while.” Arashi jerks his head to the side, tugging at Mika’s shoulder. “Hey, there’s a crazy _gyaru_ lady haggling with the Goods girls about Kaoru-kun’s bromides, want to look?”

 

Mika sniffles again, slowly, painstakingly clambering to his feet. His knees wobble, and he clings to Arashi’s arm, letting his head thunk against the other boy’s shoulder. He’d been so _proud_  to be able to wear something this pretty of Shu’s publicly, but now he’s terrified of it, stressed that he’s going to trip over the long, trailing lines of black lace, or rip or shred something that Shu will have to remake all over again…Mika shudders, scrubbing at his  eyes with the back of his hand, and looks like a raccoon all the more for it. “I guess,” he mumbles, nervously glancing back to Shu. He’s still out cold, probably will be for awhile, and maybe that’s for the best. “Ugh, my feet hurt so much, I wanna die…” 

 

Arashi’s heart twinges for Mika’s sake, which is sort of a new feeling. Oh, he feels protective of many of his kohai, sure, but Mika _isn’t_ one of them, just a sad kid who really needs a big sister to help him get his head on straight. He wraps an arm around Mika’s waist, steering him out into the lights of the lobby instead of the shadowy gloom of backstage. “See, isn’t this better? You’ve got some fans out here who want autographs, I’m sure.”

 

“Hehhhh? How come y’gave that girl a special one? Where’s mine, hahh? Ya discriminatin’ or somethin’, bitch?”

 

“Honored guest, I’m very sorry, the previous guest was a member of our Supporter’s Club and has access to special bromides with--”

 

“Ya think I’m too poor t’be part of th’club, hahh? Gimme the special one! Is his shirt off?”

 

“A-ah, Honored Guest, perhaps you’d prefer to--”

 

“Speak plain Japanese, come _ooooonn_.” Long painted nails drum on the Goods counter as the girl behind it sweats, trying to avoid making eye contact with the demanding customer. 

 

Arashi nudges Mika. “Weird, right?”

 

Suddenly, it feels like his stomach is bottoming out. Mika’s mouth goes dry, and the sudden, sharp spike in panic makes his nails—specially manicured and painted by Shu himself, now with a couple of them chipped in annoying places—bite into Arashi’s arm as he clings there. “I don’t wanna be here,” he whispers, his heels suddenly sounding like they’re clicking too loudly on the floor, and trying to dive behind Arashi is his only option. “Please, Naru-chan, please.”

 

_Maybe she won’t recognize me_  isn’t the line of thought someone should have about their own mother, but god, what else would she _be here_  for? 

 

“Mika-chaaaan!”

 

_No no no no no_ , Mika frantically thinks, his breath hiccuping in his chest when, true to Arashi’s word, an incredibly eager group of girls darts over, clutching bromides and magazines to their chests, all from before, when Valkyrie wasn’t _this._ One of them in particular is _very_  ready, and darts closer. “Mika-chan, you were so cool! A-and Arashi-san, too, you’re here, oh my god, does that mean—are you joining Valkyrie?!”

 

One of her friends rolls her eyes. “Don’t be stupid, Kiyoko, there’s no way!”

 

“That would be so awesome, though! Ah, Mika-chan, can you sign this? Is Itsuki-sama here, too? He’s so handsome!”

 

Arashi nudges Mika discreetly forward, murmuring, “It’s time to be famous, right? This is what you’re gonna be doing if you guys go pro, so rise and shine!” 

 

With that, he shoves Mika forward into the adoring throng, all of them thrusting out bromides, a couple of them on the verge of tears, all screaming, “MIka-chaaaaaan!”

 

And one voice cuts through in a rough Kansai accent, as the woman from the goods counter shoves her way through the crowd. “Oi! Micchan, make this bitch gimme the special editions, huh? Hehhh, you wearin’ higher heels than me, huh? You wobblin’? C’mere, I’ll fix yer hair.” Her long-fingered hand darts out, plucking at the carefully coiffed hair, pulling it down over his blue eye.

 

There’s no fixing this now. Maybe if he had been smarter and faster in explaining _why_  he really wanted to leave to Arashi, this would have been better—Mika has to remember, not everyone can read him like Shu can, not everyone _knows_  the difference between ‘I don’t really wanna do this, but you have to make me’ and ‘ _I really really really don’t wanna do this, please let me leave.’_

 

His mother’s perfume makes him feel sick, but Mika gives up, heaving a resigned sigh. “Mama, my hair’s fine,” he mumbles, even though he doesn’t try to stop her from touching him. “Can y’jus’—just gimme a minute?” Maybe, _maybe_  if he just starts signing bromides, she’ll take the hint and leave him alone. Doubtful, because Kagehira Ayumi is basically as clueless as they come, on _purpose._  

 

“Ungrateful! An’ I come all th’ way up here t’see ya, too!” Her voice is loud enough that a couple of the fans shrink back, choosing to take their chances waiting for Shu to emerge instead of contending with her. More surge forward to take their place, almost immediately. “Micchan, th’ dancin’ was real good! Ya must be gettin’ lotsa sponsors...money and stuff, right?” 

 

_Yikes_ , Arashi thinks with a mental wince, choosing to stay far out of that line of fire. _Sorry, Mika-chan!_

 

“Mika-chan, I love you!” One girl calls, and as if that’s the floodgates, the shouts start again.

 

“Mika-chan, please beat up my boyfriend!”

 

“Mika-chan, please _be_ my boyfriend!”

 

“Marry me, Mika-chan~! I’ll be your slave!”

 

“What the hell is all this ruckus?” Itsuki Shu’s voice cuts through the crowd, deep and demanding as he strides purposefully into the lobby. A fraction of girls detatches from Mika’s throng, clutching goods and thrusting them forward, and he ignores them (which only seems to make them scream louder). He casts an eye over the crowd, and frowns. “Kagehira. You wouldn’t sign autographs without me, would you?”

 

_Torn between dealing with his mother, and dealing with Shu, and dealing with girls, Mika feels himself start to crumple, unsure of how to even react. “N-no,” he whispers, slinking back nervously, biting his lip as he glances from Shu, then back to his mother, finally settling on the latter. “Let’s just—let’s go, Mama.” It’s easier to damage control if he can get her away from all of them before she can say anything else, and he grabs at her arm, diving into the crowd to haul her away._

 

His heart thuds in his chest, too fast, too hard, and Mika somehow manages to drag Ayumi out of the lobby, outside into the lights in front of the Live house. “Why did y’come all the way up here?” he asks, hoping he doesn’t sound as tired and desperate as he feels. Talking to his mother when he’s in heels, in a dress, with smudged makeup—it’s impossible not to fall into old habits, where he ends up pulling his bangs over his blue eye himself. “Mama, I told you I’d send money home later this month, jus’ like always, so…”

 

“But y’didn’t send enough last month! I got bills, Micchan,” she whines, plucking at his sleeves with a sigh, tugging up his long hems to his wrists. “Y’said y’weren’t doin’ so well and couldn’ send so much, so I came t’see--and ya lied! You and that man, with the fairy hair? Ya look famous t’me. I mean, ya look like an okama, but...”

 

“Mama, don’t say stuff like that,” Mika wearily says, hanging his head as he rocks on his heels, and finally just steps out of them, stooping to pick them up. “I didn’t lie. This is jus’ a school thing, it’s not real money. I mean, it could be, but ’s not real money yet.” His stocking-clad toes scuff at the pavement. “I’ll try t’send more this time. ’s hard to get a good job up here, y’know, on top of school and stuff, but I’m tryin’…”

 

“Ya gotta try harder, Micchan,” Ayumi wheedles, brushing his hair down over his eyes. She chucks him under the chin, then taps long nails against his cheek. “When ya gonna come home’n visit, huh? The girls wanna see you--lots of ‘em are askin’ if lil’ Micchan is the next big customer yet, ha! Bet they wouldn’ ask if they could see ya now...that man ya were singin’ with, he the one ya been livin’ with? Whatcha payin’ him? Don’t waste that money, I bet y’can think of a better way t’pay ‘im.”

 

Mika swallows, shrugging as he takes a step back, tugging the hems of his sleeves down again and nervously starting to pick at them. Shu’s going to kill him if he messes this dress up, but he can’t think about that right now, he can’t. “I jus’ help him with the bills, jus’ like I’m helpin’ you, that’s all,” he mumbles. “If Dad’s been around, I’m gonna pass on visitin’ home, sorry. Mama, y’can’t show up like this again, no one else’s parents do and it looks weird.” 

 

One long-fingered hand lashes out to slap him hard upside the head. “Oi! Don’t be sayin’ I look old enough to be a mom, ugh!” Then her voice drops a little, softens a little as she pets at his head. “He’s been comin’ ‘round way more often, Micchan, not drinkin’ so much. Give him another chance, huh? Like, _one_ more. I won’ tell him ‘bout what you’re wearin’, promise.”

 

“Mama…” _I’m a big homo, I live with my boyfriend, he specifically wrote a skit so I could step on him on stage, how much more obvious can it be?_ It would be a lot easier to just blurt all of that out and seal the deal for her to never, _ever_  come see him again, but for some reason, it just won’t happen. “…I’ll think about it,” Mika quietly says instead, swaying on his feet, sparing a wary glance back into the lobby. “I should probably get back. I don’t wanna leave Oshi-san there too much longer without me.”

 

The door swings open, and Arashi hurries out, looking a little the worse for wear, tugging his blazer back into place. “Mika-chan, Itsuki’s asking for you,” he says, hovering on the edge of whether or not to say something to the loud, overly-painted lady who looks barely thirty. “He says if you don’t come in soon he’s gonna come out and get you.”

 

“ _Atashi?_ ” Ayumi asks, raising an eyebrow at Mika. 

 

“Forget it, Mama, please,” Mika sighs, plopping his shoes back onto the ground, and stepping back into them with as little wobbling as he possibly can manage. “I’m comin’, Naru-chan. Mama, do you need money for the Shinkansen?” _Anything_  to get her out of here faster, sooner, _now._

 

“Ahhh, see, my Micchan is still a good boy after all, eh?” Ayumi pinches his cheek hard, then leans down to plants a huge dark red kiss on the other. “Got three tens? I know, it’s a lot, but I just came t’see ya, after all! Be nice to me, Micchan!”

 

Mika bites down on a sigh, and fishes out his (mostly) empty wallet from what is _absolutely_  his bra. “Here,” he murmurs, forking over the bills. “Have a safe trip back, okay? And _call_  before y’try to visit again, please?”

 

“Then don’t screen m’calls, Micchan!” Cash in hand, she waves, heels clicking away down the street as she sways her hips. 

 

Arashi whistles low under his breath. He looks after Mika’s mom, and tries to bite his tongue. “She, uh...seems nice. Here, use my sleeve, don’t wipe that on your pretty clothes. Itsuki made those, right?”

 

“…y’don’t have to be nice about her, Naru-chan, I know she’s…yeah.” Exhausted, defeated, and entirely unable to meet Arashi’s eyes, Mika borrows his sleeve all the same, scrubbing the lipstick stain off his cheek. “Sorry for runnin’ out like that. If I hadn’t, she wouldn’t’ve stopped causin’ a scene.”

 

“She, uh, do that a lot?” Arashi pulls back, not wanting to freak Mika out by standing too close so soon after his mother had been grabbing at him. “Show up, ask for money, insult your clothes? I mean, I’m used to being called an okama, but you’re _obviously_ just doing a performance...”

 

“Yeah, that’s pretty much her thing. Or it used t’be, before she got like, five new sugar daddies, and now she only does it when she doesn’t feel like puttin’ out.” That’s definitely too much information, but Mika is too tired to censor himself right now. He sighs, scrubbing a hand over his eyes again, smudging what’s left of his makeup. “They all still want my autograph? Or did Oshi-san distract them by ignorin’ ‘em completely?” Girls like it when Shu does that. 

 

“Looks like Itsuki’s been taunting them every time they try to chase after you,” Arashi says with a sigh. “Not sure how he’s doing, but at least he hasn’t got that doll on his arm. You sure your mom’s not coming back? She’s so, uh, surprising?”

 

“She’s…” There’s no telling what his mother will do, honestly, and that just makes Mika’s head throb. “Whatever. Ugh, I’m gonna go try and rescue him. Thanks for helpin’ me, Naru-chan.” Because if Shu can do this, then he _has_  to be able to, and so it’s with a deep breath that Mika forces himself to go back inside.

 

The lobby is still full of lingering girls, and the ones that swivel their attention to him immediately…well, they’re _scary_ , but at least it’s not his mother, and at least that gives him a moment where he doesn’t have to meet Shu’s eyes for running off and leaving him here all alone. 

 

“Mika-chan!! Mika-chan, please, I have your bromides from last year, can you sign them?”

 

_Sure did stand in the same pose every time, didn’t I? Geez._ “Y-yeah, sorry, my autograph’s not as cool as Oshi-san’s—“

 

“You’re so cute, Mika-chan!”

 

“Mika-chan, me next, me next!”

 

“There you are, Kagehira.” Shu strides to his side with two quick steps, then grabs Mika’s arm, tugging him close to a general squeal from the girls. His eyes are piercing, slightly narrowed as he searches Mika’s face for something, his own face inscrutable. Whatever he finds makes him nod once, then set off for the exit. “Valkyrie does not waste time signing autographs for common, vulgar girls like all of you. Come to the next live and gaze upon the glory of our rebirth yet again, ha!”

 

“Itsuki-sama!!!!”

 

“Itsuki-samaaa, please be mean to me!”

 

“Itsuki-sama, kiss him!”

 

Shu ignores them all, lacing his arm through Mika’s and striding backstage, letting the door swing shut behind them. Once it does, he turns, cupping Mika’s face in his skilled hands. “Are you well, Mika?”

 

The dam breaks anew, because there’s _nothing_  like his mother to leave him feeling washed out, wrung out, hung out to dry, especially when he’s already pushed to the limit and he can barely even keep himself on his feet. 

 

But Shu is calling him _Mika_ , Shu isn’t scolding him, Shu isn’t passed out anymore and his hands are warm and soft…

 

Mika knows the first sob is an ugly, heaving thing, and so he seeks to muffle them by throwing himself into Shu’s chest, burying his face against him. “Sorry, I’m sorry,” he groans, helplessly clinging as his knees finally buckle. “I’m s-sorry, Shu, I tried _really_  hard, I’ll practice harder next time, I promise, d-don’t give up on me jus’ yet, okay?”

 

Shu’s arms are warm and strong around Mika’s shoulders, drawing him closer, squeezing him tight with no outward intention of releasing him at any point. “What an absurd display,” he manages, laying a cheek against Mika’s hair. “If you’re going to keep apologizing for things out of your control, you’ll never have time to learn your next routine. Or don’t you want to go on the pro circuit with me any longer?”

 

“B-but I made us lose.” Mika’s nails curl against Shu’s back, his grip vice-tight. “If I had just hung on a little longer, we could’ve…” He gulps, his breath ragged. “Could’ve won the whole thing, and y’wouldn’t’ve h-had to push yourself so hard. Y’should be able t’depend on me for more stuff, but I jus’ go and mess it up…” 

 

“Mika.” Shu’s eyes are alight, more alive than they’ve been in long months, and he whispers into Mika’s hair, “I can’t _wait_ to design the routines for the next Live. Don’t spoil the triumph of this day with your whining. We fought well, and next time we’ll win. Ah, ah, I’m seeing the script already--and the costumes, something Regency-inspired, you moved so beautifully tonight--dark silk? But you must be able to move in it, so perhaps...mm, that’s for later, though. For now: come home with me, I want to practice.” His fingers dig in to Mika’s arms, all eager energy and exuberance, for once seeming very much a teenager of eighteen years.

 

“…E…eh?” Mika’s head snaps up, his eyes wide and wet as he stares up at Shu, not entirely comprehending. It’s been so _long_  since he’s seen Shu act like this, so _long_  since he hasn’t been furious or upset or just as catatonic as Mika feels about a performance that this seems like it’s the weird way to act, not the way things used to be. He swallows, nodding automatically, unlatching one hand from Shu enough to scrub at his swollen eyes. “Okay,” he whispers, heaving a soft, ragged breath. “Okay. Yeah. You were really amazing, Shu.” But that’s a given, isn’t it? “S-sorry I ran out on you. My mom, she’s…you didn’t want her around, trust me, so I had to get her to leave.”

 

“My tuning is nearly complete,” Shu murmurs, hands moving to touch Mika’s arms, his wrists, his neck, prodding and poking for the tension, the muscle tone, the easy movement of the joints. “You were near perfect, weren’t you? Ah, I’m starving, we should eat. Then I’ll start planning next Live’s costumes, ha! I’ll fix a challenge note to _Tenshouin’s_ door this time! That’ll show him! Come along, Mika! Hold your head high, we are Valkyrie!”

 

Mika’s heart aches, and for the first time in _months_ , it’s an agonizingly good ache. It’s been so long since Shu has poked and prodded at him like this, like he’s his perfect little doll, and it’s been even longer since he’s said things like this— _I’m starving, I want to plan things, I want to fight Tenshouin Eichi_ —and Mika nods happily, grabbing at Shu’s arm and clinging to it excitedly. “Mm! We’re the best, aren’t we, Oshi-san?” he happily agrees, scrubbing away the last of his tears, unconcerned that his hand keeps coming away smeared with his makeup, because nothing matters now that Shu is being like _this_  again. “Ahh, it was the _best_  to wear one of your dresses on stage—I wanna do it again, I’ll wear heels like this all the time if it means I can dance with you like that again~…” 

 

“Don’t be stupid, Mika. You think I’ve invested this much work into something as beautiful as you just to throw it away? Nonsense!” Shu laces his fingers through Mika’s, and tugs him towards the exit. “I have an idea for another skit. This one got the desired reaction, didn’t it? Not that we need to concern ourselves with the yapping of the vulgar masses, of course. Check my bag, I packed flats for you to walk home.”

 

_Shu thinks I’m beautiful,_  Mika dreamily focuses on, unable to even argue about _not needin’ flats!_ when he’s been complimented so nicely. He rummages through Shu’s bag, hurrying to step out of his shoes and trade them for his flats. “It’s been a long time since we’ve seen so many people at one of our lives,” he sighs, shutting his eyes in relief at being able to walk in something _comfortable_  again. He squeezes Shu’s hand, trotting after him happily. Maybe, _maybe_  normal people on the street will think that he’s Shu’s girlfriend. “I can’t wait until we get to do photoshoots ’n stuff again.” 

 

“Yes, we should practice poses. Perhaps something...mm, new this time, don’t you think? Not that our previous pose wasn’t perfect, but it was a bit _sameish_ after a while.” 

 

“Oooooi, Micchan!” Kagehira Ayumi waves from across the street, jaywalking unsteadily through traffic, heels clopping as she waves at cars to stop. “Micchan, I got _so_ lost lookin’ fer the train, I--ooh, it’s the man y’was dancin’ on, right? Kagehira Ayumi, I’m Mika’s big sis!” She flashes a peace sign, eyes flicking up and down Shu’s body, mentally calculating. 

 

Mika cringes immediately, and tries with everything in his power not to slink behind Shu. It’s incredibly difficult, and his grip tightens desperately on Shu’s hand. “Mama, y’gotta stop tellin’ people that,” he mumbles, staring down at his feet. “If y’need to go to the train station, it’s jus’ down the road at the light, then take a left…” Shu meeting his mother is right out of his darkest nightmares—she’s living proof of what _he_  is, from where he came from, and beautiful, perfect, elegant, _cultured_  Shu seeing that is right up there on his list of _worst_  things, especially on an evening like this.

 

Ayumi disregards this with the speed of someone who hadn’t really been searching for the train station in the first place, sidling up closer, one skinny hip cocked out to the side, exposing a sliver of belly skin as she tosses bleached hair over her shoulder, sending her earrings jangling. “Micchan don’t write much aboutcha back home, ya know? Jus’ that ya got a big nice house an’ make him clothes. Ahhh, Micchan, naughty! I was expectin’ a lil’ boy, but this is a man, ya know?”

 

Shu’s skin is suddenly pale and clammy, body going stiff. His left hand feels empty without Mademoiselle--why had he left her at home? Why had he thought he could do this on his own?--and his mouth goes dry, lips sticking together.

 

“T-there’s nothin’ naughty about it,” Mika defensively replies, sending a nervous glance up at Shu before forcing himself to release his hand. He swallows hard as he steps in front of Shu, protective as much as he is anxious, and he automatically lifts a hand to smooth hair over his blue eye, knowing she’ll do it if he doesn’t, and unsure if he can stomach her touching him right now. “Mama, we gotta get home, we’ve been performin’ all night…d’you want me to walk you to the station? Then Oshi-san can get home, he’s awfully tired.” 

 

Ayumi ignores him, side-stepping him to get closer to Shu and tapping a long, fake nail against his chest. “What’s the rush, hah? I can stay in Tokyo for a night, ya know. Daddy won’ mind. Oi, nii-chan, say my name--A~yu~mi! Super cute, right?” 

 

“Mama, _please_ ,” Mika begs, stumbling over the train of his dress as he turns, grabbing for her arm. “I don’t have the money for y’to get a hotel in Tokyo. And Oshi-san’s house ain’t _that_  big, s-so there’s no room there, I’m really sorry…” 

 

Ayumi’s patience frays, partly from Shu’s lack of response to her charms, partly from Mika’s nagging, and it’s at him that she snaps. “Oi, don’ talk to me like that! Ya wanna call me _Mama_ , ya best act like y’got some respect! Ya pickin’ at them hems again, huh? Thought I broke ya of that.” She yanks at his hems, tugging them up. “There, now everyone can see that y’got--”

 

“Don’t touch him!” Shu’s voice spikes suddenly high and piercing, loud enough to echo down the half-empty street. He swats Ayumi’s hand away, stepping between Mika and Ayumi, eyes blazing. “Don’t--he’s _perfect_ , you’ll _spoil_ him, no one is allowed to touch him and no one is allowed to talk to him like that, you horrible woman!” His heart thunders in his chest in an irregular rhythm, the stress and exhaustion warring with the sudden irrational desire to throw himself into traffic rather than let anyone touch Kagehira Mika (no one is allowed to touch him, hands all over Nito had spoiled him, no one is _allowed_ , Mademoiselle should be here to help, what is he _doing?_ ).

 

Mika falls stark-still, frozen and wide-eyed as he stares up at Shu’s back in disbelief. It’s not like he’s ever been able to raise his voice at someone bothering Shu like that, but he’s the one always defending Shu, or at least, trying to, not the other way around…especially when it comes to _parents._  In his mind, his mom is scary, pushy, impossible to deter, and shouting at her means a slap to the face, at _best._  Shu is much braver than him, Shu is _defending_  him, and it makes his chest ache. He gulps, reaching out a trembling hand to grab at the back of Shu’s coat, fisting his fingers into perfectly tailored fabric. “Shu,” he whispers. “C…can we go?” 

 

That small Kyoto-ben voice at his back is the only thing that reminds Shu that he needs to be _functional_ , that this isn’t the time to have a hysterical breakdown in the middle of a city street after a Live. He moves on instinct, bending to throw Mika over one shoulder, then striding purposefully across the street as fast as his long legs can carry him, away from Kagehira Ayumi’s stunned, wary, painted expression. “We’re going home! You’ll be lucky if I ever let you leave the house again, letting people _touch_ you, you’re _mine_!”

 

The squeak that leaves Mika’s voice is less frightened, more surprised into being bewildered and thrilled all at once when he’s suddenly off his feet and dangling. “O-okay?! U-uh, Shu, I can…” _I can walk_  is on the tip of Mika’s tongue, but instead what escapes is a dazed, pleased, “Shu, you’re _so_  strong…”

 

“It’s adrenaline, you idiot!” Shu’s voice is trembling, but not from the strain of carrying Mika. “And you should eat more!”

 

At least they’re no more than a few streets from the house, and his shoulder is just starting to ache when he opens the door, setting Mika down safely (safe, got to lock him away) inside, shutting the door and locking every lock. “Does she know our address?”

 

Mika dumbly shakes his head, staring up at Shu, still wide-eyed and more than a little shocked by what just happened as he wobbles on his own two feet again. “N-no. I always put the return address as school, ‘cuz I never wanted her showin’ up here out of the blue…” He trails off, exhaling a shaky breath. “I’m really sorry ‘bout her,” he blurts out, abruptly glancing aside and biting his lip. “I…I know she’s terrible, I don’t think she would’ve done anythin’ real bad, though…” 

 

“I can’t believe your mother is worse than mine.” Shu checks the locks, then nods, satisfied. “I don’t want to cook tonight, but if you’re hungry we can order something in. I...” His hand starts itching for Mademoiselle, but he can talk to _Mika_ , at least. He strides forward, cupping Mika’s face in his hands, breath still coming fast, licking his lips. His eyes are searching, a little desperate, as only a man who’s found what he’s looking for and is terrified of losing it can be. Nito had left him after outbursts like this, but Mika...Mika is better, isn’t he? More resilient, more forgiving, isn’t he? “Don’t leave,” he whispers, all other words deserting him.

 

“W…what?” Mika’s gaze immediately jerks back up, and he blinks up at Shu, his brow furrowing in confusion. “You’ve gotta be kiddin’ me, right?” he says with a nervous laugh, reaching both of his hands up to clutch at Shu’s, now-chipped nails curling against the backs of Shu’s hands. “Why would I leave? I don’t wanna go back out there if my mom’s around, and the way y’carried me off like that…” He trails off as his face flushes hot, and he shrugs helplessly. “N-no one’s…I didn’t think somethin’ like that would ever happen to me. Was like y’were a prince stealin’ me away from a dragon, y’know? And y’said I was yours, and t-that…that no one else was allowed to touch me.” He swallows, lowering his eyes. “I like that. A lot.” 

 

Shu’s knees wobble, and he grips Mika’s hands, probably too tightly, resting his forehead against Mika’s. The relief is so strong he sags, and presses a hurried kiss against that soft, wild hair. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he says, voice shaking. “I’m--I just want to look at you forever, I...” _I don’t know how else to express this feeling where I’d throw myself between you and the rest of the world, please understand like you do when I call you a failure and you beam up at me._

 

“…If we could get away with stayin’ in your house forever, that’d be good, yeah?” Mika gently butts his head up against Shu’s, daring a glance up through his eyelashes, which would work better if they weren’t clumpy with mascara, honestly. What a _night._  “It’s okay, Shu. I don’t really wanna do anything than have you look at me…well, maybe wear all the stuff y’make me,” he admits sheepishly. “But I guess that’s part of it, huh?” 

 

Shu sags the rest of the way down to the floor, sprawling in an awkward, failed seiza as his legs finally give out. “Too much,” he gasps, resting his head against Mika’s thigh. “Too much for the day, take care of me already.”

 

“Right, right,” Mika hurriedly agrees, petting his fingers through Shu’s hair automatically. Definitely too much for the day—between the Live, his mother, _everything_ …Mika exhales a long, unsteady breath, and resists the urge to just flop onto the floor next to Shu. If he weren’t still in the dress Shu made him, there wouldn’t have been any contest. “I’ll go run a bath, yeah? Y’need t’eat somethin’, you were so hungry earlier…” _Fuck you, Mama, if you ruined that_ , Mika wearily thinks. “I can run back out to the conbini, or…” 

 

“No, no, eating now would be absurd. If you’re hungry, I--”

 

Shu’s stomach growls so loudly he can physically feel it, and he huffs out a breath. “Don’t be stupid. You can’t go alone, what if she finds you? We’ll--ah, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but we’ll just order a pizza. _After_ we bathe.”

 

Shu, _Itsuki Shu_ , ordering a pizza? The world really has come to an end. Mika tries not to laugh and fails, slapping a hand over his own mouth the second he’s sure it’s going to end up making him lose out on pizza for the first time in a year and a half. “S-sorry,” he giggles. “I jus’ never thought _you’d_  suggest orderin’ pizza.” 

 

“I’ve changed my mind, we’re just going to starve! Stop laughing, you imbecile!” Despite himself, a tiny smile tugs at Shu’s mouth. “ _You_ do it, you know where the money is. I’ll run the bath.” Unspoken is that Mika is far better on the phone than he is. “Get whatever’s appropriate on such a thing, I haven’t had it since Kiryuu’s house in elementary school.”

 

Mika nods, his eyes lighting up like stars. “Okay! But then y’gotta help me out of this dress,” he plaintively says as he turns to trot away into the kitchen. “If I mess it up, I’ll never stop kickin’ myself.”

 

There’s something cathartic about being able to order pizza after a long night and a really, really exhausting live, and by the time Mika counts out the money and sets it out on the counter, geared up for the inevitable doorbell ringing in about half an hour, he hears the groan of the house’s water pipes squeak to a halt. He gingerly tugs on the extension clips in his hair as he makes his way to the bathroom, starting a small collection of them in hand. “Shuuu,” he whines. “I don’t wanna mess any of this stuff up, please help.” 

 

Shu pauses in the middle of undressing, down to his unfastened black trousers, shirt and jacket already hanging up. “Turn around. I’ll undo it. Ah, your hair is all sweaty, isn’t it? You worked hard.” His fingers are lingering, plucking at each fastening, each bow and tie with the utmost care, both for the dress and for the man inside it. He catches sight of them in the mirror, and raises an eyebrow. “Heh. We really look rather heterosexual at the moment, don’t we?”

 

“I was kinda hopin’ someone would think I was your girlfriend earlier, when y’were holdin’ my hand,” Mika admits, exhaling a long, relieved sigh when the back of his dress unravels, and he can _really_  breathe again. After a few hours, sweaty lace is scratchy and irritating, and he wonders how girls wear this _all_  the time— _especially_  the stuff under their clothes, too, which is all currently driving him a little bit insane. “Ahh…my mom definitely thinks I’m an okama, but I guess I don’t care that much…”

 

“Stupid woman. It’s _theatre_ , obviously.” Shu strips the dress off, then has an idea, draping it over his arm instead of hanging it up. “Get in the bath, I’m going to hang it up properly.” 

 

Before going back to the bathroom, he plucks at the silky lingerie laid out on the bed, face flushed with the idea of Mika putting such things on after the bath. It’s probably stupid to do this _tonight_ , but...well, he has been planning this since before the Live, working on the pieces in secret for weeks, imagining what he’s going to look like. 

 

Then he tugs the door shut, shucking his trousers and underwear, climbing into the old clawfoot tub with Mika. “Ahhh. Turn, I’ll wash your hair.”

 

Mika, slumped down into the tub and letting the steam alone wash away the last of his smeared and smudged makeup, contently flops his way around, sloshing the water against the sides of the tub. “You don’t always wanna take a bath with me,” he hums, pleased beyond belief. “First pizza, now this, you’re spoilin’ me tonight.” More correctly, _first you carried me off like I was your prize_ , but he still hasn’t really _processed_  that part.

 

“Don’t be ridiculous. I merely didn’t want to wait, either for food or a bath. You’re causing me so much trouble tonight.” Shu rubs a pump of shampoo into Mika’s soft wavy hair, slowly lathering. “We’re going to _destroy_ fine at long last.”

 

Mika nearly slithers to the bottom of the tub underneath the press and knead of Shu’s fingers. “Mmhmm,” he purrs, his eyes fluttering shut as he tips his head back into Shu’s hands. “I wanna go with you when we post the challenge notice on their door, like y’said earlier…I bet we could beat _any_  of them with the kinda stuff we did tonight, Shu…” 

 

“Unlike Undead, fine has some weak links, some very easy ones to exploit, and not nearly the endurance of some others. Wataru...will be dangerous. You’ll leave him to me. And Tenshouin, of course, because I have to rip out his throat with my own two hands.” Shu’s voice is fond, almost dreamy as he massages too long, probably far too long.

 

“Y’gotta let me help some, Shu…” Mika feels himself start to go boneless, and he sags backwards, slipping back in the tub to flop into Shu’s chest. “Shuuuu, you have the _best_  hands, y’gotta stop pettin’ me or I’m gonna drown.”

 

“You can’t drown. You haven’t been conditioned yet. Ha! Nice pun. I’m still conditioning your body, you see.” Shu indulges himself a little, trailing his hands down the back of Mika’s neck, then down to wash his chest. “You’re getting much more definition here.”

 

“…and y’gotta stop pettin’ me like that, or I’m gonna get distracted,” Mika grouses, even as he’s the one that turns his head, stuffing his face into Shu’s neck and mouthing a kiss to the side of it. “Ain’t it bad if I get too much muscle? Then I’ll really look like a _guy_  in a dress and not…yeah.”

 

Shu sniffs, pulling his hands back to dump water on Mika’s head. “Don’t insult my dressmaking. Obviously the raw materials matter some, but I can make you look however I want.”

 

Entirely too used to this, Mika doesn’t even react to water suddenly being all over his face, other than to blink some of it away from his eyes. “But I wanna look cute and pretty, because then you’ll call me beautiful again…” 

 

“I’ll call you that whenever I like. And if I ever see someone yank at your clothes again, I can’t say I’ll be held responsible for what I do, Mika.” Another dousing of water, then the conditioner makes its way through slowly to the ends. “She’s lucky I didn’t put her in a pot and boil her.”

 

Mika’s mouth opens, then shuts, and he says nothing for a moment, his eyes lidding again at the methodical touches to his hair. “Even if it’s my mom…I really like when you say stuff like that,” he admits with a little laugh. “I mean, I wish you hadn’t had to meet her like that, but if it’s gonna make you sound all possessive and stuff, that’s real nice.”

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Shu frowns, working the cream rinse through every single hair. “I’d thought you’d hate it. Confrontation, and the like. I just...couldn’t stand it. I won’t have it. This is my _work_ , no one is allowed to touch it, not those pathetic screaming fans and not that horrible woman. None of them are half the lady Mademoiselle is.”

 

“Mado-nee is a real lady,” Mika automatically agrees, giving up the fight not to lean back again, and flops against Shu with a content sigh. “Hate confrontation,” he mumbles in agreement. “But y’got all possessive, and carried me off like that…that was th’ best.” 

 

“Don’t expect me to do that all the time. I need to be in my peak condition to fight Tenshouin.” Water splashes down over Mika again, and Shu gives him a prod in the shoulder. “Get up, I’m going to get pruney and I hate that.”

 

“But you’re so waaarm.” Mika nuzzles underneath his chin, snuggling up against Shu’s chest in the water. “Shu, you’re a lot stronger than you wanna let on! You picked me up and threw me over your shoulder like I weighed _nothin’._ ” 

 

The doorbell rings, and Mika hisses out a breath like a startled cat, clinging to Shu’s shoulders. “Pizza,” he dimly recalls, grumpy that he now _has_  to get out of the tub. “I hate th’ doorbell.” With great reluctance, he hauls himself out of the tub, dripping wet, and grabs the nearest shirt (Shu’s) to pull it on over his head. “Comin’!” he calls, snatching up a pair of boxers as well to drag himself into those before darting out to intercept the pizza guy before he leaves. It’s been too long without corn and mayonnaise, thank you very much.

 

Shu rinses quickly, then towels off, waiting (hiding) in the bathroom until he hears the pizza guy leave. He emerges in just a pair of Mika’s boxers, which are really too small, folding himself up on the low sofa next to the coffee table in the front room. “Let’s be really absurd tonight, Mika. Eat on the couch with me, not even in proper clothes.”

 

“We’re already eatin’ pizza, which is the _best_ ,” Mika hums, eagerly flopping down on the couch next to Shu and bringing the entire pizza box with him. “I can’t believe y’haven’t had pizza since elementary school! I mean, I guess it’s been awhile for me, too, but not _that_  long.” He flips open the box, selecting a piece and immediately taking a bite, even if it’s hot enough to burn off the roof of his mouth. “‘m gonna die happy,” he groans, listing sideways.

 

“What on earth--mayonnaise and corn?” Shu’s voice is half-curious, half-aghast, staring at the white-and-yellow creation. “This is going to be disgusting. I can’t believe you have such bad taste. I’ll have to break you of that eventually. Something like this--”

 

He takes a bite, and flavor explodes, sweet and salty and creamy and tangy on his tongue, and his expression changes. “I...mm. I suppose your taste will do for now.”

 

“The best, right? Right?” Mika snuggles up against Shu’s side, already on his second slice, and trying to remember to pace himself (sort of). “There was only ooone place where I grew up that delivered, and this was the only good kinda pizza they made, heh. But it’s the best, so that’s okay. Ahh, I’m still real sorry about my mom from earlier,” he laments, stuffing another bite of pizza into his mouth. “I was hopin’ you’d never have t’meet her, and she was in rare form tonight…” 

 

“Why is she...like that?” Shu asks, not so much trying to be delicate as he is trying to say something that makes sense, and he has no idea how to put that _woman_ into words. “With the--the hair, and the nails, and the voice, and the touching, ugh. _You’re_ not that way.”

 

Mika flips a few different explanations around in his head before deciding _screw it._  Shu already knows more about him than anyone else, parents included, so there’s no point, really. “‘Cuz she’s…she’s tryin’ to get attention from guys left and right.” Mika plucks up a piece of corn, popping it into his mouth with a sigh. “My mom works at a spa. The kind that caters to foreigners. Said there’s not much else for her t’do when she got knocked up in high school, ‘cuz I ruined everythin’, y’know.” 

 

“This is why it’s better to stick to dolls, Mika,” Shu says with an offhand shrug, stuffing another piece of pizza into his mouth with a gusto usually reserved for croissants. This is, of course, a special occasion. “Or to be homosexual, I suppose. Much less difficult. Is she a prostitute?”

 

“She doesn’t like that word, but yep,” Mika tiredly says, folding up his pizza slice into a little rolled blanket before biting into it. “Told me instead of gettin’ a job t’help pay your bills, I should be ‘doin’ somethin’ more fun with you to pay rent.’ Stupid double standard, if she actually knew I was a homo, she’d flip out.” 

 

“Fortunately, I doubt you need to have much contact with her in the future. You aren’t intending to go back home after graduation, after all.” Shu starts another slice, but his stomach turns over at the second bite, and he sets it back in the box. “Well, that’s enough of that. How does this keep? Refrigerator? I don’t know anything about pizza.”

 

“Pizza never dies,” Mika sagely tells him, finishing up his slice in short order and shutting the box. “But the fridge is fine. And yeah, I ain’t goin’ back home, I’d rather die or be a bum on the streets. Between her and my dad…” He shivers, then shrugs, hopping off the couch to put up the pizza. “’s no good, don’t wanna.” 

 

“As if I’d allow such a thing,” Shu says with a huff, quelling the panic that rises in him at the idea that Mika could go back to Kansai, even for a moment. 

 

Well, he’ll just have to rise to the occasion. He takes the pizza box into the kitchen, then calls, “I’m taking out my contacts. Go into the bedroom and wait.” _Please like it. Please don’t think it’s weird or too much._

 

“Mm, all right.” Mika stifles a yawn, rubbing a hand through his still-damp hair—it always takes _forever_  to dry, no matter what he does—and slowly makes his way to the bedroom, pretty darn ready to collapse facefirst into Shu’s big, comfy bed. 

 

Except the bed is…occupied.

 

Mika remains in the doorway for a moment, staring at what’s laid out on the bed—lingerie, made in the colors of Valkyrie, with ruffles and lace and dangling garters and soft, soft silky-satin that makes his fingers twitch with the urge to touch. He exhales a soft breath, stepping closer and reaching out a hand like he’s trying to pet a stray cat that he’s afraid will run away, and runs a thumb over the lacy edgings. _Shu made this. For me?_  No matter how many times Shu has made him something beautiful, something _lovely_ , it’s still hard for it to stick, and the doubt is stronger with something like this, something so beautifully sewn that he’s afraid to even try it on.

 

“You don’t like it.”

 

Shu’s voice is flat and nervous in the doorway as he watches Mika stare. He looks away, looks anywhere but at Mika, hoping the disappointment doesn’t show too strongly on his face. “Just throw it away, then.”

 

Mika jumps, bolting as he turns around, his eyes wide. “N-no! No, that’s not…” He flutters a hand nervously. “Th’ last time I tried somethin’ on this pretty, you…y’yelled at me, a little, because I didn’t do it right,” he says, dropping his hand and glancing away. “I didn’t wanna put it on and mess it up…ahh, I’m sorry, I know I’m bein’ stupid, sometimes I can hardly believe y’make things this nice and that t-they’re for _me_ , so I…” 

 

“Shh. Just--be quiet for a moment. And take your clothes off.” His fingers itch to pick some of the garments up, so he does, plucking at the delicate fabric and holding it up and open. “If you want, I’ll put it on you. Then you can...look at it.”

 

A hurried nod, and Mika strips, tugging his (Shu’s) shirt up and over his head, kicking his boxers away as well. “Promise…promise you won’t laugh, if I look bad?” he worriedly presses. “I mean, I know y’made it, so it’s perfect, b-but ’s not like when I’m in a dress, that’s a lot easier to kinda make _work_  and stuff…”

 

“Stop yammering, you’re spouting nonsense and it’s going to give me a headache. Just--step in here.” Sometimes Mika’s protestations are just too much and too stupid to deal with, and Shu’s patience is not infinite. He tugs first a pair of panties, then a garterbelt with a huge flared gauze skirt into place before starting on the top piece. Mika has nothing to cup or support, but that’s why Shu had made it with built-in padding and dramatic (long) sleeves for camouflage. There aren’t nearly as many parts as there are to the Valkyrie costumes, and Shu steps back after just a few moments, satisfied. Mika looks stunning, a creature of lace, chiffon, and somehow sex appeal to the point that Shu is loathe to step back, eyes running Mika up and down a few times hungrily. “Very nice. Very, _very_ nice. I outdid myself.”

 

Even if he’s just been in a dress on stage, in _public_ , physically _stepping_  on Shu, _this_  is what makes Mika’s face flush hot, his eyes lidded as he can’t stop himself from touching whatever he can reach, running his fingers over soft fabric. The way Shu looks at him makes Mika’s toes curl, and he exhales a soft breath, biting his lip as he reaches forward, grabbing for Shu’s hand. “…I’d wear this kinda stuff all the time if y’wanted me to,” he admits, sounding a little breathless. “Even under my uniform at school ’n things like that…ahh, does that make me a pervert? I jus’—the way you look at me…”

 

“How...” Shu’s voice fails for a moment, and he clears his throat, squeezing Mika’s hand with one hand, then running the other over the chest panels, dipping lower to brush a thumb over the taut fabric stretched over Mika’s soft cock. “How does it feel? Can you describe it? I’ve never...” _Cared how it felt to wear before, putting clothes on my dolls._

 

Mika’s breath hiccups. “I…I mean…” Trying to put it into words is hard, especially words that don’t sound stupid, so Mika gives up, deciding to just say what he always thinks. “It feels like—like I’m actually as beautiful as y’always say I am,” he says with a nervous little laugh, fiddling with one of the hems on his sleeves, at the soft, fluttery fabric that drapes over his fingers. “Soft, and silky, and it’s like…like your hands are all over me, ‘cuz you made it for me, s-so it just…feels like you.” 

 

He swallows, taking a suddenly urgent step forward, his fingers hooking into the waistband of Shu’s boxers. “Can I? I’ve…I’ve always wanted to, when wearin’ somethin’ like this…” 

 

“I--”

 

Shu’s knees buckle again warningly, and he sits on the edge of the bed, fingers curling into the bedding. It’s hard to deny him when it’s one of his own fantasies as well, with Mika all lovely and reaching and petting when _he’s_ usually the one reaching out, the one whose hands are all over, the one people try to push away. “Go on.” It’s been weeks since he’s felt Mika’s mouth. It had felt incredible, but Shu hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that the act is taking advantage of Mika somehow. “You look so young without all that makeup,” he whispers, eyes caressing Mika’s face.

 

Mika tries to be graceful about dropping down to his knees, but that’s easier said than done when he’s suddenly, _achingly_  needy, and _has_  to have his mouth on Shu or he’s pretty sure he’s going to die. His bare knees sink into the carpeted floor, and he lowers his eyes, his fingers eagerly peeling away the thin fabric of Shu’s boxers. “So long as I look pretty for you…Oshi-san.” It’s one thing to be able to call Shu by his given name whenever he likes in private; it’s something _else_  to be able to still call him _Oshi-san_  in situations like this, when it’s less respectful, way _sexier_ , and it makes him squirm where he kneels, soft, silky satin against his cock feeling far better than it probably should. “Oshi-san,” he breathes, mouthing kisses up the inside of one of Shu’s thighs, making his way up to his cock. “I think about this all th’ time, if I could have my mouth on you all th’ time, I’d be happy…” 

 

This is incredibly unfair, Shu thinks wildly. When did Mika get so frustratingly _sexy?_ It’s one thing to think he’s sexy when they’re making love. It’s another when Mika is taking control, yet still looking up at him with those seemingly innocent mismatched eyes, being very deliberate about dragging a lot mouth over his skin. His skin prickles all over, and his thighs part, hips jerking up, cock bumping against Mika’s cheek. “Y-you can’t say things like that,” he gasps.

 

“Why not?” Mika fairly whines, tilting his head to let Shu’s cock rub further up his cheek, and to let his lips drag against the underside of it. His fingers splay against Shu’s thighs, trembling a little in his eagerness. “I wanna wear somethin’ like this under my clothes at school,” he murmurs, licking his lips before his tongue flicks out again, getting a taste of the precome already beading at the tip of Shu’s cock. The taste alone sends heat pooling swiftly down to his belly, and he whimpers, his eyes fluttering. “S-so I can take ‘em off in our practice room and do this t’you again. Nnn, Oshi-san, feed it to me,” he begs, “I want y’to touch me.” 

 

Shu’s hand flies down between his legs, squeezing the base of his cock tightly, yanking Mika’s head back with the other hand. “S-sorry,” he says through heaving pants, chest rising and falling fast. “Too much--it’ll be too fast, you’re too much, I want to enjoy this.”

 

“Oshi-saaan,” Mika groans helplessly, tugging against the hand in his hair. “If you come fast, I’ll jus’ suck it again, I don’t mind. I told you, I could have it in my mouth all the time and I’d be happy.” 

 

It’s too much already. Shu lets out a cry, hand still gripping Mika’s hair, and just the friction of the head of his cock bumping against Mika’s cheek is too much. He spills hard and sudden, painting Mika’s face, some landing in his hair or on his eyelashes, every spurt drawing a helpless groan out of him. 

 

When his mind clears, he’s mortified at the sight, lunging for a handkerchief. “No, no, I’ve messed you up, you’re all--”

 

“Sit, Oshi-san, please,” Mika quickly begs, pushing Shu back down by fumbling hands on his hips, even as his own chest heaves, his cock achingly hard and straining against perfectly sewn satin. He lifts a hand to gingerly wipe at his face, and can’t quite resist licking a stripe over the back of his hand, shuddering at the taste that makes his skin flush hotter. “’s not messin’ me up if I like it,” he rasps, grabbing for Shu’s cock again with eager fingers, feeling how it still twitches in his grasp. He mouths a hot, wet kiss over the tip, his tongue swiping flat over it to lick it clean. “And I’m your doll, right?” he murmurs. “You can use me however y’like, however many times y’want.”

 

“No, no-- _no_ , Mika, that’s not how--” 

 

Shu scrubs his hands down his face, feeling startled, vulnerable, heart thudding against his ribs. He slides down off the bed, kneeling in front of Mika, grabbing his face to kiss his (clean) cheek, his lips, his hair, his forehead again and again, blinking rapidly. “I...I am at your service.”

 

Mika blinks at him, wide-eyed and more than a little dazed from arousal, and slowly shakes his head, grabbing Shu’s shoulders to give him a gentle shake. “Shu,” he quietly says. “You’ve _gotta_  let me spoil you for a change, even if it’s jus’ a little. Please? I _like_  bein’ your doll, I _really_  like bein’ able to make you feel good. C’mon, I’m good at this, and you made me look so pretty,” he adds with a breathless laugh. “Lemme show off.” 

 

Shu covers his face with his hands for a moment, trying to get his thoughts together. Mika is just such a _relief_ to be around, someone who makes his heart rate beat quietly, who makes him stay long hours at school to practice just to be worthy of standing next to such a beauty. It’s unlike him to allow someone to take care of him, but...

 

He heaves a breath, then stands, laying down on the bed. “Then show off,” he says softly, eyes following every bit of Mika’s movements. _It’s for you that I do all of this_ , he wants to say, but knows his tongue has only insults left, so he holds it.

 

Mika nods quickly, crawling after Shu onto the bed, layers of chiffon trailing behind him. “You’re the best,” he breathes, nuzzling his way up Shu’s thighs again, pushing his hair back from his face one-handedly as he plants kisses over the jut of one of Shu’s hips. He grabs for Shu’s hand, guiding it back to his hair. “Love it when you touch me, Oshi-san,” he murmurs, his eyes lidding. “I can tell how much y’want me when you do.”

 

“Don’t say such stupid things,” Shu whispers, fingers carding through Mika’s flyaways, tugging his head down, trying to be gentle when he wants so _much_. “I always want you, whether I’m touching you or not.” It’s different from the way it is when he grabs at others, or the way he’d tugged at Nito’s clothes--no, now’s not the time to think of him. 

 

“It helps me...remember that you’re only mine.”

 

A rumbling sound of approval leaves Mika’s throat. “Only yours,” he eagerly agrees, mouthing a wet kiss against the side of Shu’s half-hard cock. “Mmn—Oshi-san…” 

 

This time, he’s _going_  to have Shu’s dick in his mouth if it kills him. He curls shaky, excited fingers around the base of Shu’s cock, letting the head of it rub and bump against his lips before they part, slick and still a little stained from his makeup earlier when they wrap around it. Mika doesn’t waste time in letting Shu’s cock slide up against his tongue, a single bob of his head taking a good half of him into his mouth, where he can feel every centimeter harden and swell down his throat. His eyes flutter, a groan stuck in his throat, and he scoots further up between Shu’s spread legs to better lap and suck at Shu’s cock. Wearing what he’s wearing is another level of distraction, another level of arousal—it’s not just his cock straining against his panties, but the way his nipples feel, hard and tender when they rub against the padding of his bra. _I’m a total pervert,_ Mika thinks dazedly, but ah, well. There’s no helping it.

 

Shu’s first instinct is to pull a pillow over his face to hide the way it must be twisting, contorted in rapture. He must look a fright, embarrassing, the throes of ecstasy ripping through his good sense and destroying his composure...but Mika doesn’t seem to mind.

 

If Mika isn’t embarrassed now, with his mouth stretched wide around the shaft of his cock, draped in silky, lacy things Shu had painstakingly handcrafted with love in every stitch, does he even have the right?

 

His cock throbs, aching no matter how recently he’d come, swelling urgently back to life against that hot wet tongue, and he reaches down urgently, one hand on Mika’s head to encourage, the other running over the fabric at his chest, stroking over soft silk with frantic arousal. “You look--you’re _lovely_ , I’m keeping you here forever, you’re all mine, Mika, you’re so good at this...”

 

The praise goes straight to his cock, and Mika whimpers, grabbing blindly for Shu’s hand to shove it underneath the silky fabric of his bra and to one of his nipples. That’s just another distraction, but Mika doesn’t mind having to work harder to swallow down around Shu’s cock, desperate to taste him, to feel the way he thrusts into his mouth, drips over his tongue…

 

Mika’s eyes flutter when the head of Shu’s cock hits the back of his throat, and he sucks in a sharp, ragged breath through his nose. When he pulls back, just a _little_ , there’s no helping the wet, hungry noises he makes with every lick and suck and drag of his mouth over him.

 

Before this, Shu would have said that his refractory period was approximately normal, thank you very much, and he’d need a good hour or so between rounds to ensure maximum satisfaction. Now, his body doesn’t seem to care if he’s just come. All it cares about is Mika slurping and groaning around the thick length, diving down over and over again, looking eager and greedy and like there’s nowhere in the world he’d rather be than here, and Shu’s heart aches. “Mika...Come here, here, come up here.” He tugs insistently at Mika’s shoulders, urging him up flush, suddenly needing to touch so much more than what he can reach in this position. 

 

It’s with _great_  reluctance that Mika releases Shu’s cock from his mouth, and his pouting about is all the more dramatic with a flushed face and swollen lips. “Shuuu, you’re not playin’ fair,” he groans, even as he obediently follows that pull, slinking up on top of him and letting his mouth attack Shu’s neck instead. His own cock aches painfully, and it’s impossible for him not to let it rub against Shu’s hip through his panties as Mika straddles him. “Why won’t y’let me?” Mika sulkily asks, nipping at the curve of Shu’s shoulder. “Is it not good?”

 

“It’s--it’s good, I promise,” Shu mutters, hands fluttering a little as they smooth down over soft skin and fabric, self-indulgent little touches that send ripples of pleasure through him. He rolls them, pinning Mika down, pulling back only to gaze at the way the fabric hangs, flutters, hugs every delicious inch of that familiar body. “I love it. I just--let me at least enjoy touching you, if I’m going to all this trouble!”

 

Ah. Well, it’s not like Mika hates _this_  kind of Shu, even if he _really_  wants Shu’s dick in his mouth again. He flops back, biting his lip and trying not to get too grabby when Shu clearly just wants to _look_  for a minute, though it’s difficult, and his fingers _do_  end up pawing helplessly at Shu’s hip. “You can touch me as much as y’want,” he murmurs, exhaling a shaky breath through his nose when Shu’s hands make him want to squirm. “Do you…I mean, y’can put it in, if you want.” Shu _has_  been acting awfully manly tonight, so maybe…

 

The idea, breathed in Mika’s soft Kansai twang, shoots through Shu like electricity, charging every bit of him until he feels like he’s burning. His hands wander, inaccurate but _wanting_ , seeking, petting, squeezing, touching every part of Mika he can reach, and he grabs Mika in a hard kiss, hoping some of his frantic emotions will be conveyed that way. “I’ll die if you hate it,” he whispers, hands dropping to squeeze at the sheer cloth covering Mika’s hips, down to his thighs, the idea of Mika wanting something like that from him making him bold. 

 

_Oh my god, he’s actually thinkin’ about it!_  Arashi has always told him how _lucky_  he is that Shu lets him put it in, but Mika has a sneaking suspicion that it’s at least 80% because Shu is terrified of hurting him. Even if they only do this once, if Shu just knows from here on out that he can, whenever he wants… “Won’t hate it,” Mika hurries to reassure him, grabbing at Shu’s shoulders, hauling him down for another, deep kiss that makes him groan and arch up, squirming to squeeze his thighs around Shu’s hips. “W-whatever y’want, Shu…’s not like I don’t think about it all th’ time…” 

 

“You shouldn’t say such lewd things.” The words are almost reverent, as careful as Shu’s hands splaying over the smooth fabric and smoother skin. The memory of their first time and the bruise he’d left on Mika’s neck still haunt him, no matter how Mika had claimed to like it. 

 

But for once, the hunger to _have_ , to make Mika feel as good as _he_ always feels when they make love drowns out the fear. _If I can trust myself to be onstage again, perhaps, just perhaps, I can trust myself to do this._

 

He kisses Mika again, deep and long, sucking on his tongue and dropping his hands to play over Mika’s lower abdomen, down to the jut of his hips in front, brushing over his inner thighs. One hand ghosts over the damp spot left by his cock (obviously achingly hard), then moves down to rub over the cloth-covered hole between his thighs, watching for any sign that Mika isn’t comfortable with this.

 

Mika’s breath hiccups, a whine rising from his throat first when Shu brushes over his cock, then _lower_ , where he can’t help but dig his heels into the bed and wriggle down, his cock throbbing the second he presses down against Shu’s hand. His own fingers twitch to grab Shu’s, to coax him (or really, _make him_ ) to yank his panties off and touch him _properly_  already, but instead he digs his nails into Shu’s shoulders as his thighs spread, desperate and welcoming. Dressed like this, he feels like a prize that Shu has won, dressed up to his exacting preferences, and god, if he can’t convince Shu that it’s _okay_  for that to be the case, Mika doesn’t know what he’ll do.

 

“You’re mine, aren’t you?”

 

Shu’s fingers are always accurate, always precise, and this is no different. They delve inside the lovely lace he’d so perfectly crafted, and he gasps at the feel of the tight hole against the pads of his fingers. The touch is so intense he buries his face in Mika’s shoulder, groaning in anticipation. “I’ve wanted you this way for so long,” he confesses, more honest when Mika can’t see his face. 

 

The breath that escapes through Mika’s nose is long and shaky, and he clutches at Shu’s shoulders, squeezing and kneading as he spreads his legs, trying, _hoping_  it comes off as eager as he feels. “Yours, I’m yours,” he hoarsely agrees, squeezing his eyes shut as he _tries_  to keep himself under control, tries not to already lose himself when just being touched that much by _Shu’s_  perfect, long fingers, even if they aren’t inside yet… “S-Shu…Shu, here.” Mika’s hand swings out automatically, snatching up the tube of lotion that’s a mainstay by the bed now, shoving it against Shu’s chest. “Please, please, I’ve thought about doin’ this soo many times, y’gotta…”

 

Shu spills a little of the lotion-- _stupid, get it together, he’ll never like it if you’re sloppy garbage!--_ but gets most of it on his fingers, pulling the fabric to the side and rubbing slowly over the hole. In his eagerness, one of the fingers slips inside, and he lets out a groan at the tight heat, squeezing down on the digits. “Tell me if you hate it, I’ll get better at this, I’ll make it perfect, just let me keep touching you...”

 

His mouth works over Mika’s mouth, then his ear, sucking the lobe between his teeth, rubbing his cock against one firm thigh.

 

Just that one finger sinking inside makes Mika groan—too low, too husky to match the lingerie he’s wearing, probably, and so he clamps a hand over his own mouth, huffing out hot, moist breaths into his palm. He wriggles down, his eyes fluttering when it slides in deeper, as long and perfect as every stupid fantasy had ever warned him it would be, and his cock drips profusely, the way the swollen, slick tip rubs against his panties enough to make Mika’s eyes cross. “Shu…S-Shu,” he breathes, fumbling to grab at Shu’s wrist. “Put another one in, god, feels good…” 

 

“You can be loud.” The words make him blush, and Shu rubs harder against Mika’s thigh, a second finger sliding in, feeling the stretch of that tight hole. “I...I like hearing the noises you make.”

 

The word is less _like_ and more _crave_ , and Shu probably thrusts in too fast, curling and stroking at first, then losing control and just plunging in, hungry to feel more, more, to touch and feel and play Mika’s body like the perfect puppet he’d always tried to build. “Do you like it? You do, right? It feels good? It doesn’t hurt?”

 

It’s a really good thing that Shu tells him it’s okay to be loud, because there’s no helping it. Mika chokes on his next breath, the rasping, desperate cry that escapes not anywhere near the pretty sounds he wishes he could be making, but god… “R-really good,” he manages to say. “Shu, I…” 

 

The way Shu’s fingers press inside of him, long and deep and thorough, make every muscle in Mika’s legs bunch up and tremble, and he digs his heels into the bed, arching up with a ragged gasp. He clings to Shu’s upper arms, nails scratching there desperately as he rocks down into those fingers, eager to repeat the way it feels when Shu curls them in that one, particular way. It’s a mistake—sort of, if he can call it that when it feels so damn good—because that sends a startling jolt of pleasure up through his spine, and Mika chokes down a scream when his cock desperately throbs, a hard, aching pulse the last thing he remembers before he comes in spite of how hard he tries not to. “S-sorry, sorry, fuck, Shuuu…” Mika groans, sagging down into the bed as he throws an arm over his face, flushed and sweaty and trembling, his hips still rocking down helplessly. “Pleeease keep goin’…”

 

Shu huffs half a laugh into Mika’s shoulder, giving him a reassuring squeeze through the tremors. He stills his hand, but doesn’t slide it out, pulling back far enough to rest his forehead against Mika’s. “We’ve both been doing that tonight, hmm? It’s fine if you want to stop, honestly--”

 

It would make more _sense_ to him--it always makes more sense to him to get Mika off with his hands, the most perfect part of his body, the part he controls and understands and trusts not to hurt the thing most important to him.

 

Even as shaky and out of breath as he is, Mika growls, low and hungry and frustrated, and grabs with shocking accuracy for Shu’s cock even though his eyes are closed. “Fuck me,” he demands as his fingers curl around it and he drags Shu forward by it, “or I’m gonna flip you over and get on it myself.”

 

Shu sputters, thighs trembling when Mika grabs at him, knees slipping out from under him for a moment. “ _Honestly_ , Mika, have a little dignity! I can’t--I just wanted--oh, _fine_.”

 

He surges up, pinning Mika’s wrist to the bed with one hand, pulling out his other and guiding his cock to that slick hole. It catches on the rim, and he can’t help the way his hips thrust forward, burying himself inside a few hasty centimeters before he gets himself under control. “S-sorry, is it--did I hurt you, are you--?”

 

The breathless groan that leaves Mika’s throat says it all—or it _should_  say it all, especially when all he can think of doing is grinding down, no matter how his body clenches down around Shu’s cock like he’s _never_  going to let it go. More than fingers, sure, but that’s _not_  a bad thing, and it takes his breath away. “K-keep goin’,” Mika gasps, his fingers flexing into his own palm, squirming for a better position to keep his legs around Shu’s waist, no matter how they shake when he tries to close them. “’s good…god…Shu, you’re so…” 

 

Something deep inside Shu tells him that he shouldn’t like this so much, shouldn’t take so much pleasure in something he’s taking _from_ Mika. It’s like those brutes who had enjoyed knocking his dolls out of his hands as a kid, the ones who liked pushing him into the mud--or is it?

 

From the way Mika is writhing, grabbing at him and shoving down, it doesn’t feel like that at all. Maybe, just maybe, it’s all right to take pleasure in this, to let Mika make him feel good in this way for once. _I don’t deserve this_ , he wants to say, but all that comes out is a whimper as he shoves in harder, burying himself in that tight heat. “It feels good, doesn’t it, Mika? You love this? I--the way you feel, I--”

 

A startled, pleased yelp escapes Mika’s throat when Shu shoves in deeper, and his thighs squeeze tight and trembly around Shu’s waist, his hands immediately reaching down to grab the curve of Shu’s ass and haul him in hard. “So good,” he gasps, his eyes squeezing shut as he clenches down around Shu’s cock, rocking down hungrily into every single thrust of Shu’s hips. His head lolls back, his nails raking up Shu’s back to bury into his hair and drag his mouth to his neck. With every arch of his back, his cock rubs against both silky lingerie and Shu’s stomach, achingly hard again and slowly leaking. “Shuuu…Shu, ’s perfect, love you, please, please…” 

 

Mika’s always good about reassuring him, even if Shu doesn’t know it’s what he needs at the time. He gasps, hungry, attempting to keep himself in check--trying--failing--

 

His hips snap in hard, starting a rough, eager rhythm, mindlessly seeking after that pleasure, the friction driving him to grab and cling to Mika’s hips, yanking him down with every urgent thrust. His fingers squeeze and release, some mental override every time he grips hard enough to leave a bruise, wanting to _take_ , wanting desperately not to _hurt_ , more than anything wanting to _be with_.

 

It helps that Mika is grabbing at him too, and he licks and sucks at the sweat-slick skin of his neck, whimpering every time he feels Mika shiver and shudder around his cock. _Hold on, Itsuki Shu,_ he tells himself in a voice that sounds nothing at all like Mademoiselle, for once. _Take care of him, make him love it, delay gratification until he’s screaming your name, be fucking worth something for once in your life!_

 

Mika’s mind clicks off. On autopilot, every single grind and roll of his hips is desperate, riding down onto Shu’s cock to meet every single thrust of his hips. It’s as perfect, as in-time as any dance they’ve slaved away at for weeks--but _god_ , does it feel even better. His nails claw lines down Shu’s back, leaving red streaks in their wake, and the noises Shu makes against his neck just make Mika tremble and squirm down more. “Shu,” he gasps, and his voice breaks, breathy and rough. “ _Shu_ \--”

 

One, mindless arch of his back later, his cock rubbing up against silk and Shu’s stomach, Mika comes with a strangled cry, losing himself between them. It feels like every single muscle in his legs cramp, and his toes bend into the bed, his thighs quivering and taut against Shu’s sides, hot, wet breaths puffing out against Shu’s ear every single time he squeezes down on Shu’s cock no matter how he tries to stop and calm down. He can’t, he just _can’t._

 

Hearing his name like that is all it takes for Shu to lose control completely. He half-screams, some garbled mess of a word that could be anything and ends in a sob against Mika’s skin, the pain from the scratches on his back spiking him over the edge. His hips rut in deep, burying his cock in as far as it’ll go, coarse hairs nestled against Mika’s skin, holding him as close as he can physically get without melding completely. 

 

He sags, the orgasm making him feel wrecked, as if someone has ripped out his spine and replaced it with pudding, like a puppet whose strings have been severed. Another sob tears through his chest, and he bites down softly on Mika’s shoulder, trying to stop himself from crying again. Once after sex was enough, even if his body seems to disagree. “Just--one second--”

 

“‘s fine, ‘s fine, Shu...” The words are hoarse, shaky and a little wet themselves when Mika pets a hand uselessly down Shu’s back, up into his hair. His nerves feel singed, every muscle twanging, and Mika sniffs, blinking hard to keep a mix of tears and sweat out of his eyes. “I...mm, that was so good,” he mumbles, shifting languidly underneath him, and grimacing at the achy, sore stickiness that seems to be melding them together. “Thank you.” _I know that took a lot, sorry I had to kinda bully you into it...but not really!_

 

“Feels wrong,” Shu murmurs, wiping carefully at Mika’s face, brushing away his tears with the pad of his thumb. “That something should feel so good without being harmful, somehow. I...”

 

The things that feel good are winning, conquering, achieving, and they only come about through hard work and pain for months, culminating in more of it when he’s done and preparing for the next brutal triumph. He’s never had a good feeling in his life that didn’t come from toil...

 

Except with Mika.

 

“It’s got to be fattening. That’s what it must be,” he teases gently, resting his forehead against Mika’s.

 

“Y’think so?” Mika laughs, butting his head gently up against Shu’s. His fingers tip-toe their way down Shu’s back before settling right back onto the curve of his ass, contently kneading. “I don’t think it’s bad, though. It feels real good to me. Nn, Shu, y’have such a nice dick,” he mutters, squirming, wriggling down a little bit even if it makes him wince. _Everything_ is sticky, and his lingerie is starting to chafe, but oh well. It’s worth it. “Should use it more, y’know?” 

 

Shu grimaces, pulling a face at Mika when he pulls out. “Insolent, and very rude. I don’t think most men would complain about what I let you do to me, do you?” 

 

Mika whines out a complaint, kicking out a leg grumpily. “Ain’t complainin’, just sayin’,” he huffs, making a face at how _slick_ he feels inside. “This is good, too. Not gonna stop doin’ the other stuff, but you _gotta_ do this sometime.” 

 

“Fine, fine. I suppose I can indulge you on occasion without ruining you.” Shu leans to the side, grabbing for a soft cotton handkerchief, brushing gently between Mika’s thighs to clean up his mess. His voice is as gentle as he can manage as he says, “I was quite sore, the first time. Don’t feel as if I’ll panic if you are, too.”

 

Mika hopes the sigh of relief he heaves isn’t too loud at that. “Ahh, good. I was worried y’might be. Heh, does that mean you’re not gonna be mad about these either?” he hums, lifting a hand to gingerly poke and rub at the bruises he can feel forming darkly all over his neck. “Hope not, ‘cuz we’re even. I got your back real good.” 

 

“Like bedding with a wild cat,” Shu mutters, but his cheeks tinge pink, and a little smile plays on his lips. “You shouldn’t act like it’s such a crime that I don’t want to hurt you, Mika. It makes me terrified that I’ll die and you’ll wind up with someone else that won’t treat you well.”

 

“I don’t think it’s a crime,” Mika defends, grabbing for Shu’s arm to haul him back down for cuddling purposes, at least until he can’t stand being wrapped up in silk and lace any longer. “I jus’...I dunno, I think it’s hot, when you mark me up. Then everyone can know I’m yours, and they won’t touch me.” 

 

“They won’t. I’ll stop them.” Shu isn’t sure of many things about himself, but he’s at least sure of that much. “No one is allowed to touch you. You have to understand that. You belong to me.” _Haven’t I done enough to say that, at least?_

 

“Mm, I do.” The words send an elated shiver down Mika’s spine, and he snuggles up close, content to stick to Shu with drying sweat and other unmentionables. “And you’re mine, Oshi-san.” 


End file.
